TPOM Drabbles and One Shots Set 1
by MiniBrissy
Summary: Ranging from fluff to angst, here you'll find the short stories between brothers and the different agencies! Enjoy! (Rated K due language, possible violence, etc)
1. Wake Up Call! (Rico&Private fluff)

_Wake Up Call_

Gentle winds blew outside, imitating whistles that could be heard from the inside of the Tux household, where the brothers slept peacefully on this peaceful Saturday morning.

They had slept in the rooms in their base, where they shared one massive room together with bunk beds. In contrast, the rooms in the house would be separate from one another, but despite so, some would sleep over at another's room with them.

On one of the bunks slept Rico. A gentle snore. He groaned, slightly awakening, only to roll in his bed to gain more refuge from the cold in his blanket. A relieving breath of air left his body, snuggling into the comfort of his sleep. Suddenly, much to his dismay, he felt another being climb onto his bed.

"'Iiiiico! Wake up, big burther!" a happy tiny voice trilled.

Rico opened an eye. A pair of big eyes that seemed to radiate innocence came into view, small hands pressing Rico's cheeks playfully.

"Wake up! Let's play!" Private hollered, swaying Rico's shoulder back and forth.

Rico grunted, closing his eye. He rolled over to face away from the five-year old. Such a way to brush Private off proved to be pointless as Rico could sense the tiny boy make his way to see his face again. But Rico protested, keeping his eyes closed. Sure, he'd love to play with his baby brother, but not right now- they just came from a tiring mission last night!

The man's thoughts were abruptly cut off. His eyes shot open upon feeling a new sensation.

" _Goddamnit, Private…"_ he thought, a smile cracking on his lips.

Private, knowing just how to squirm his way into each of his brothers' hearts, had begun to kiss Rico's face all over rapid-fire. Rico couldn't help chuckling, seeing Private's big smile as he continued, trying to get Rico to follow want he wants.

But no. Rico wasn't gonna go down like that. The man allowed for a few more seconds, giving the child one last chance to back off. When he didn't stop, Rico swiftly used his arms, clinging to the blankets, to engulf Private in. He held the squealing child in a hug under the warmth of the covers. Turning the tables on Private, he planted several smooches on the boy's cheeks and cute little nose.

Rico slowly stopped, ruffling Private's hair, stirring an adorable giggle out of him. When he felt a hand place itself under his chin, patting it, Rico opened his eyes, raising a brow as he smirked mischievously.

"Kuyaaaa! Let's go play!"

Rico cackled at the name. "Kuya." It made his heart melt, sure. But his mind was set on staying in bed. He gave one last peck on Private's nose, and snuggled in comfortably into the bed, holding Private as if he were a stuffed animal. He closed his eyes, nuzzling his face into Private's messy curled hairs.

Private struggled in his hold, whimpering as an attempt to wriggle his way into Rico's heart. But to no avail, as he watched Rico ignore him, falling back into his sleep.

The young child continued to try to escape, only to give up eventually, cuddling up to his big brother and accidentally falling asleep as the warmth grew on him.

As Private had gone quiet, breathing gentle and calm, Rico peeked, opening an eye, seeing the child that nestled into his arms. He snickered victoriously.

A quiet clapping broke out in the room. Rico darted his eyes around, finally seeing the heads poking up from the other bunks. There, on the bunk above his, Skipper's head popped out, looking down at him with an amused grin.

"Wow, soldier, I gotta say that's the quickest I've seen anyone disarm the boy's charm strategy," he complimented, stirring small laughs from the others who also watched.

"Alright boys, let's do this," Skipper began, jumping out of his bunk and onto the floor. The others followed, Rico as well, placing Private down and tucking him in and using extra pillows to form a protective barrier around him.

"Operation Birthday Boy is a go, guys," Skipper announced as they had all walked out of the room, closing the door behind them.


	2. Reunion

_Reunion_

Being created by test tubes and science, blood transfusions with the Tux brothers were always complicated. They were their only donors that they could accept blood from.

Skipper was at the North Wind's medical bay after a mission led to severe injuries on his younger brothers. Skipper sat in the waiting room, foot restlessly tapping the tiled floor. He, too, had injuries, but did not require more than a few stitches and bandages.

Skipper snapped his head up when Classified came out through the white double doors. He sat in silence, anxious to hear what Classified has to tell him from the doctors.

"Skipper, the three are all in need of blood transfusions. However, you can not supply them all bec-"

" _Why not_ ," Skipper interrupted. His brothers needed him, and goddamnit, he's gonna be there for all of them.

"Skipper you will end up in bad condition too if you even _try_ to supply them all. You have lost your mind if you think our doctors will allow you to even try that!"

"He won't need to. You've got three more donors right here, Agent Classified," spoke a firm voice. Both Penguin and North Wind operatives turned toward the direction of the new voice. Three men stood in front of the entrance of the medical bay. Classified knew them; he and the North Wind had saved them from the wretched island of Hoboken a while ago. After hearing news of Dave's threat, the North Wind had to keep them at their base to keep them from the crazed scientist's grasp.

Classified was horribly confused. The Tux brothers couldn't just have _anyone's_ blood- they had a system! He was about to inform them of the circumstances that they could not donate to Skipper's brothers, until-

"You're all.. _alive_?"

Classified shot his eyes back at Skipper upon hearing a hic in his breathing. Classified has only known the man for, what, less than a week? And he knew Skipper was not the type to be emotional in the slightest. But there were tears sprouting out from his eyes, trailing down his bruised face and dripping to the floor.

"Guys.. Sweet sardines, guys!" Skipper yelled through his sobs. Classified watched as he practically threw himself into the trio's arms.

"I- what. Wha- Skipper, what is going on- explain this now!" Classified growled, agitated that he was unaware of something between Skipper and these agents.

"Classified, I would love to, but how about we get this blood stuff done first, huh? I mean, I would feel more at peace if I knew that my brothers are coming into more stable conditions," spoke one of the agents. Classified eyed Skipper, who had his face buried into the speaker's shoulder.

"B-Brothers?! Nigel, what-!" Classified tried to further prod, but was interrupted.

"Blood first, _then_ we can talk!"

Oh, Skipper had no regrets in turning to face Classified with his teary eyes and runny nose; his face was just as a scene! He was just so lost by this point as he guided the Penguins into the medical rooms.


	3. Explain Yourself! (Part 2 of Reunion)

_Explain Yourself! (Continuation of Reunion!)_

"Explain what this is right now! Skipper? Nigel? Manfredi and Johnson?!" Classified spewed, brain itching for answers. He had just taken them back to the waiting room after the doctors had extracted their blood.

One of the men, one of the _twins_ that had caused Classified so much annoyance ever since they were saved, sat back in the bench, one arm wrapped over Skipper and Johnson's shoulders. He chuckled, and ran a hand through his jet black hair.

"Why, haven't you figured it out yet, Woulfe? We're simply Skipper's brothers. We're _all_ brothers," he said, voice just as playful as usual.

"I _know_ that now! But you can't just-! Ask yourself- how likely is it that the brothers my team and I brought to the base just happens to be your own?!"

"Ha, that's what I wanted to know, but I couldn't care less now that we're back together," the twin chimed, tightening his arm around Skipper.

Classified groaned, running his hands through his silvery hair as he threw his head back. "You bloody penguins are all the same! You're all so confusing and annoying and-"

" _Charming_?"

" _No!_ "


	4. Scars

It's been a long night. Full of crime-fighting and rump-saving action. Well, the second part was from the North Wind. It _is_ their job to help protect the top agencies that are, well, becoming bigger targets.

Skipper was in the hospital bed, room shared by his three younger brothers. No one was in any serious condition, just some blood loss here and there, maybe a broken bone, maybe a stabbed organ.

Maybe a long gash going across their little Private's face.

Ever since he had woken up from the tranquilizing darts, not only had he been in pain from the gruesome thing, but he'd been quite heartbroken on the new feature on his face.

It was a hard scene to watch, Private was always the peppiest one, always cheering the others up. But now, he's hardly cracked a smile, barely looked any of them in the eye.

Skipper couldn't take it. He got up, despite doctor's orders, and pulled up a chair besides Private's bed. He showed Private his hand, and unwrapped the bandages.

"Private, look. I know you don't.. It's not the best thing to have on your face. But think; scars are definitely something. Look at my hand. These three scars here from _that_ incident. It will never leave me, and I don't want them to. Wanna know why?" Skipper looked at Private, who listened intently but did not respond.

"I don't want them to fade because they're a reminder to me. They remind me how, on that day I got them, I was able to save you, Rico, and Kowalski. They remind me how I was able to do something great, how I survived it and got past it that it's now just a scar," he continued. He took hold of Private's hands. "You get what I mean yet, soldier?"

Before Private could utter his words of protest, Skipper moved the youngster's attention to Kowalski.

"Look. Kowalski has scars too. He may not be too proud of them, but aren't we? We're proud because he was able to get through extremely difficult times and situations, and they show how strong he is, how capable he is to do so much more."

And then to Rico.

"And Rico. He's got a scar on his face, just like yours now. His scar shows just as much, how, at a young age, he put someone else's life before his, and saved them from their death. We're all proud of him for that, because that someone just so happens to be you, Private. Do you see what I'm trying to tell you here, soldier? I- Oof!"

Skipper grunted slightly at the sudden pressure on his bandaged chest as Private hugged him tightly, but he eased up just as quickly as he gave a small laugh.


	5. Caffeine

Just a request I got from my ask blog, so I'mma just post this here too! Also thanks for the reviews/ messages! 3 Enjoy!

* * *

A dark, early morning, the sun not having peaked yet to shine. The Tux brothers had slept in their underground base. Most of the bunks held at least one of the members- two were empty of their hosts. Outside the room, one of them was climbing up the ladder, shoes making low "clunks" with every step. He opened the roof entrance, steel creaking as it turned when he opened it and when he closed it and hiding it again under a dresser.

Skipper strolled through the living room, following the light from the archway to their kitchen. He peaked his head in.

"Kowalski," he sighed, crossing his arms and leaning his shoulder onto the doorway, "What are you doing up so early? I told you today's a break day from any missions."

There, sitting at one of the bar stools in front of their counter, sat Kowalski. At one glance, one could easily see his sleep deprivation easily. His back hunched, compared to his usual proper stature, his eyes were ridden with dark rings and looked blood-shot. His hair, though usually messy, was even more disheveled. Surrounding him on the countertop were stacks of papers and a manila folder full of one of their current cases. Next to the stacks was a mug, that Skipper could smell was a particularly strong coffee.

"I _haven't_ slept, Skipper," Kowalski answered, shifting his glazed daze to his older brother. He neatly fixed the papers in his hands and set them down on another pile as Skipper made his way to him, taking a seat on the stool next to him.

Skipper sat hunched slightly, arms still crossed but sitting atop the counter. He observed all the items on the table, figuring out which of their cases this was.

Lately, their cases haven't been too urgent nor dangerous- but this one was a bit more. And it was a bit more of a long- term case. It's objective? To locate and catch the deranged Dr. Blowhole. The team heard rumor from the other agencies that he's hatched a new plan. And it possibly included the capture of _someone_ in _one_ of the agencies to use in the plan. From the mad scientist's first meet with his younger brothers, Skipper suspect that Private was at high risk of a kidnapping, and so he took on the case with the other teams to put the potential threat down ASAP. But, as of recent, Skipper hadn't told his brothers the change in plans yet.

"I'm not letting him near Private again."

Skipper's eyes snapped to Kowalski, as he was pulled out of his thoughts by his voice. It was serious, deadly serious, yet full of desperation and nerves.

"Is that why you stayed up?" Skipper asked.

"Yes. I've been trying to figure out his plan, his route, where he could be- _anything_. But I _can't_ find _anything_ ," Kowalski said, voice further tensing, as he shook his head as he looked through the piles of papers. He groaned, agitated and rigid, as his hands reached up to his head and held on tightly to strands of hair.

"Kowalski, calm down," Skipper said soothingly. He placed a hand on Kowalski's shoulder, the other hand trying to get Kowalski to stop tugging on his hairs. "Look, I know this potential danger for Private is getting to you. It's getting to all of us. But look," he cut himself off, giving Kowalski an empathetic smile when he looked up to him. "We're not on this case anymore."

"What? _Why_?" Kowalski asked, obviously in disbelief.

"The North Wind have put themselves in our place- _they're_ going to handle it-"

"Skipper, no! If there's anyone that's going to keep Private safe, it's us, and you know it!"

"I do! But if there's anyone that can keep Private safe until Blowhole's threats are subdued, it's us! If we're off focused on the mission, who's keeping Private safe from any of his henchmen that could be going right past our eyes?"

Kowalski sat quiet, eyes disgusted from Skipper's sudden change. He never would give up a case, especially if it was for one of his brothers.

"Do you really think they can do our job like we do?" Kowalski questioned, voice harsh.

Skipper burrowed his brows, biting his lip. He loosened his grip on Kowalski's shoulders, his own shoulders slumping slightly.

"No," he huffed. "But it's the safer option, Kowalski."

Neither spoke, but Kowalski's face showed confusion to his words.

"Remember the last time we focused too much on catching the enemy?" Skipper's breathing hitched slightly. "We left Private alone because we thought we finally caught him, only to find out he slipped right past us- and was able to get his hands on Private and take him away from us. That was my fault, and I'm not letting it happen again. We have to put this case down, no matter how much we know we can execute it faster than Classified and his group. _Private's safety_ is our mission now."

Kowalski's bottom lip curled inwards, as he was biting down on it to try to force himself not to give in. But his face- Skipper knew Kowalski's trying to accept it.

Skipper, along with the rest of his boys, all could remember the incident that happened just months before. The _Dave_ incident. Ever since, Skipper's been wary about their missions, careful to make sure that none of them are similar situations that would place a target on one of his brothers. Whether he'd decline such missions for the rest of his life, he couldn't tell.

Skipper could tell that Kowalski's finally accepted giving up on stopping Blowhole themselves, and stood up to clear the papers of the file off the counter. "Everything's going to be fine. Private will be safe, and the North Wind will handle Blowhole."

When all the papers were finally gone, Skipper sat back down, eyes sympathetic to the nervousness on Kowalski. The mug that still sat caught his eye, grabbing it, and sniffing its contents. "How many cups of _this_ did you have?" Skipper asked, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

Kowalski gave a nervous, half-hearted laugh. "Ah… I don't recall, but maybe six throughout the night."

Skipper's brows raised. "I'm guessing you're having a hard time sleeping again anyway, right?"

Kowalski nodded. In the past nights, sleep has been impossible for Kowalski as the case stayed on his mind, and when he was able to fall asleep, nightmares were usually waiting for him.

Skipper hummed. "Kowalski's probably gonna be anxious until he crashes from exhaustion, I guess I could…" Skipper thought to himself, before pushing himself up from his seat.

"Wait here, birthday boy," Skipper called, as he made his way out of the room.

Kowalski stared after, words ringing through his mind a few times. "Birthday boy?"

After a few minutes, Skipper came back, a small colorful box in his hands. "Here," he said, tossing it to Kowalski, who nearly dropped it three times trying to catch it.

"Don't tell me you forgot your birthday," Skipper played, sitting back down.

Kowalski's eyes concentrated, as he tried to think back. How _could_ he have forgotten it was his birthday? But then again, he didn't really care much for it as, to him, it didn't matter too much as he was probably already in his peak age of his "immortal" life.

"Are you gonna open it, or what?" Skipper mused, pulling him from his thoughts.

Kowalski looked at the box in his hands, pulling off the top. Inside, a smaller cube- each side having different sorts of buttons and switches and such. He pulled it out with one hand, observing it again, before looking up to Skipper perplexed.

The older man rubbed the back of his neck, smiling softly. "It's a fidget cube for when you need something to mess with when you're anxious. I was gonna give it to you later when we're actually celebrating, but I guess you could put it to use now before you pull out all your hair," he kidded. "Especially when you've had like six cups of this strong coffee hell," Skipper added, nudging Kowalski's arm.

Kowalski suddenly put his hands in front of him, examining all the hairs that decorated his white gloves.

"I- I- uh, you-" Kowalski began, fumbling with his words before puffing out air, and taking in a deep breath. "T-thank you, Skipper, I love your gift, big brother," he said, smiling tiredly.

"Don't mention it, Kowalski," Skipper chuckled, patting Kowalski's back. "Now go enjoy your break day. When the others wake up, we'll go out to celebrate."


End file.
